


settle for long-distance calls

by lemoncave



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Canon, collection of snippets - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2020-07-25 12:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncave/pseuds/lemoncave
Summary: Life after the DC promotion.





	1. 2013/2014

**Author's Note:**

> After rewatching, I needed to get my feelings about these two out and how I wish they’d been together for real on screen for longer.
> 
> Just a note: I’ve never been in a LDR so I hope all’s good and I may have exaggerated a thing or two. Also, I don’t really get what Maggie’s job is.
> 
> I may or may not keep adding to it if I ever get more ideas. Hopefully I will.
> 
> Title’s from “If These Sheets Were States” by All Time Low.

“Fuck,” Jim says, drawing the hot coffee cup away from his lips. He runs his tongue along his mouth, everything feeling like sandpaper, and he knows he should wait longer to avoid burning himself again with what isn’t supposed to be mud but his mouth can’t feel much now anyway and he’s about to fall on his feet with exhaustion, so he keeps drinking on his walk back towards the seats outside Gate 3, carefully, since he wants to spare his hand at least. The seat he’s started referring to as his by now is still empty.

He lays the cup beside him and looks at the big digital clock for probably the sixth time in half an hour: in forty minutes, plus another hour or so, he should be landing in Washington DC, with Maggie waiting for him outside the airport. 

If his flight doesn’t get delayed again.

Settling in, he distracts himself the way he always does: with work. He reaches into his messenger bag and grabs his laptop, ready to lose himself in emails or solitaire for at least twenty minutes.

He tries to keep the feet tapping to a minimum but fails easily when it reduces his anxiety and he doesn’t want to stop. It’s not like he’s desperate to see his girlfriend as soon as possible and spend two meager days with her before reality sets back in and he has to live apart from the most special person in his life, or anything, but he’s kind of desperate. He should be used to this, he’s had long-distance relationships before, but it’s been a month. An entire month of only phone calls and Skype.

When they’d talked about visiting prior to Maggie taking the job, he’d thought they would meet every week, which turned out to be an optimistic estimate. Distance isn’t really the issue (they’re only about 230 miles away). No, he’d underestimated the time constraints of their new jobs. 

He has the advantage of having shadowed MacKenzie for the last three years as Senior Producer and that he loves what he’s doing, but being an EP is a constant learning curve, keeping him on his toes every night. His responsibilities are time-consuming and not easily delegated, which had always been the case but now to a whole new level, and even considering the disasters she’d supervised, Mac had always made it seem easier, like she had at least a day to get her head together before being plunged into another unsolvable situation. 

(Pruitt never helps matters either. If he and Mac have to explain again why there’s no way in hell they’ll do even 30 seconds on the latest twerking scandal or whatever, he’ll have a stroke.)

Maggie, being the newest in her office (and coming from the NY bureau no less) has a point to prove. She’s adamant she can't let anyone down, a principle he understands deeply but one which will undoubtedly lead to burnout if she isn't careful, but for now she’s rising to the challenge, making a name for herself like he’d known she would. It just means prioritising her job and staying in DC a lot of the time.

As a result, they see each other around once a month, maybe earlier if they’re lucky. 

He doesn’t dwell on it much as his hectic day-to-day doesn’t leave room for it, and they keep each other updated for the most part. It’s surprisingly similar to when they weren’t dating in that sense.

It’s in the background, though. He notices in those moments when it hits him that she’s not around: seeing Sam’s dark hair at Maggie’s old desk or seeing a different EP hurry into the control booth when he’s expecting her. That’s when he blanks out before Herb’s voice brings him back to the present and there’s a bitter aftertaste at the end of the day.

On the other hand, they are exactly that, moments, and they’ve become more and more infrequent as News Night evolves. 

Much has changed since Pruitt took charge. People have left or joined, segments have been dropped or added, Will is some degree of tamer thanks to both Mac and upstairs. Jim’s not even in the same office anymore.

There’s a side of his life that grows independent of Maggie, one in which he doesn’t feel her presence, and it’s not a bad thing exactly. But it’s waiting at airports when Jim can step back, look at where he is and realize how fucking much he misses Maggie anyway.

By the third game in a row that he’s lost, it’s ten minutes to go. He packs his laptop again but knows it’s going to be a while yet before he can board. He hides a yawn as he looks at the other passengers walking around or waiting like him, not leaving his eyes on any of them for too long, and then his eyes drift to those big red numbers again. He suddenly misses the agonizing entertainment of the second hand moving closer and closer to the hour.

He takes his phone out for lack of anything better to do and the red (1) on his messages catches his immediate attention. For some reason, he isn’t expecting Maggie’s _ I can’t wait to see you <3 _ though it’s completely logical. 

(Or sort of logical, considering it’s Maggie talking to him. Combative, cuts-through-his-bullshit Maggie. Surprisingly though, in the last four months, she’s... less of that. She’s a lot more tender where before she’d be sarcastic and call him an idiot. Now it’s a fond “idiot”.)

He bites down the smile he can feel forming, and replies with _ almost there_. Her reply of a kiss emoji comes a few seconds later.

It’s in these moments he curses airport clocks.

*******

Even though now he has the privacy of his own office, he guesses it’s a small tradition to skype for five minutes with his girlfriend, whoever it is at the time, from the ACN stairs.

“You should have seen his face when he had to admit I was completely right. I’ve never felt more satisfaction in my life!”

“When you say satisfaction,” he begins, “you mean—”

“Professional satisfaction.”

“Okay.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, James.”

“I didn’t even finish the question.”

“I could see exactly where it was going.”

“So was it even better than hanging that interview over my head during election night?” he says with a hint of challenge in his voice.

She pretends to consider it. “That was a small accomplishment in comparison but, I don’t know, it was special, so maybe yours is a close second.”

He’s smiling at Maggie’s cute face and she rolls her eyes when she notices but she also blushes, which he loves about smiling at her cute face. It’s a thing he didn’t use to notice he was doing but with the number of times Maggie’s asked him why the huge smile with her face burning red and he realized it was because of him, he’s made it more intentional, especially when she’s acting a little cocky: it’s one of the few ways he can win an argument. He’s about to throw another quip when:

“Sorry to cut your banter short, Benedick, but the control room needs you a minute,” Don interrupts. “Hey, Maggie.”

“Hey, Don,” Maggie greets back, forgetting her earlier embarrassment, “How’s ten o’clock?”

“Always getting better,” he says with a sort of optimism he didn’t use to have. “Hope DC’s treating you well.”

“If by well you mean exploiting my uncompromising work ethic, then yeah, they’re great. They let me watch ten minutes of your shows most nights.”

“Aw, I can’t say the same around here. We get your reports, though, we watch them when we know it’s you.”

Maggie smiles, appreciative. “Really?”

“Of course,” Don says matter-of-fact. “Elliot’s very fond of you now, it’s in his new contract that we _have _ to watch them.” He tries but the joking smirk slips out quickly when Maggie’s slight indignation shows in her face, and they end up laughing about it. 

Being with Sloan has done Don a world of difference, Jim thinks, watching them interact. After all the breaking up and making up Don and Maggie have gone through, Jim’s always a little surprised at how much their relationship has stabilized since officially ending it, but Don’s really content with his life now, much less tightly-wound, and he thinks Maggie’s happy too, or at least hopes so, and it all shines when they see each other occasionally. Don and Maggie make better friends anyway, he adds, definitely _ not _thinking of all the pining of that first year.

“It was nice seeing you, Maggie,” Don says and turns to leave but taps Jim’s shoulder before, reminding him to hurry.

His five minutes are up.

“Do _ you _ watch my reports?”

“See,” Jim winces, “that’s when we’re doing sports and my eyes just stray.”

“Then I guess I should be talking to Elliot now.”

“He has a wife and kids, Maggie!”

“Things you’ll be missing if you continue like this.”

Jim stutters to a stop, getting stuck on subtext. “That’s where you see us going?”

That stops Maggie right in her tracks as well, her mouth trying to form several words all at once showing she did not expect the conversation to take this particular turn, but she’s saved before she can say anything.

“Jim!”

Jim sighs and decides to leave it alone for now. He looks back at the screen with increasing disappointment. “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Maggie answers, almost relieved. “We’ll make time tomorrow, after News Night. It’s only one more day, right?”

“Yeah,” he whispers because his voice never wants to cooperate when they have to say goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she says, and they smile one more time, but he has to go and her window closes.

He takes a second to put himself back in order, breathe deeply and exhale, and then he heads to the control room.

***

First thing’s first, her shirt has to come off.

The door’s barely closed, their coats and bags falling to the floor, before he kisses her lips like he hasn’t for three weeks, with a little recklessness and a lot of want. These are the lips that are always an image on the screen, thin but sweet, cherry pink, pursed looking for a way to explain what he’s wrong about, the same lips he has to connect to a voice through the phone, imagining how they smile along. It feels like a lifetime since they’ve been right in front of him, waiting for his own, like a mirage beckoning his touch.

Maggie kisses back with as much relief.

They’re touching everywhere, with his body pinning hers to the wall and her arms around his shoulders. His fingers brush her back and go down her sides, ending up around her hip. Winter sucks, he thinks absently as he has to dive through her sweater and shirt and undershirt before reaching skin. He loves brushing up her waist (she’s so sensitive right below her ribs), causing those hair-raising shivers all over. 

He gasps when Maggie, in retaliation, runs her nails softly down the back of his neck, an equally sensitive zone for him. He pulls up the hem of a layer, he’s not sure and doesn’t care which one. Maggie gets the message anyway and does the rest, taking them all off. 

Finally.

His mouth trails down her neck, where he can faintly feel her pulse racing, and lingers there, kissing every inch of skin, before going lower onto her chest. She grabs his hair tighter as his breath leaves a ghost sensation, raising goosebumps all across, and she tips his head back up before going for his lips again and again and again. She takes the lead from there onto their hotel bed, and they manage to trip only once.

Now it’s his turn to take off his shirt.

***

He hates being outside after Maggie leaves for DC again. He didn’t even want to leave his apartment in the first place, having to face the grey, cold sky outside, but it was an empty wish, like wanting to stay sleeping instead of going to work: he’d always known he was coming with her to the train station, no matter what. It’s still a small form of torture how aware he becomes for the rest of the day.

As soon as the train’s left and he turns around, bam, a couple. Not two meters away, another couple. Waiting for the bus, another couple. Walking down the street to the coffee shop two blocks from his apartment, the one Maggie likes, at least three more. It’s like being a teenager all over again. 

He’s not looking for them either. He _ wishes _ he couldn’t see them at all. But there’s no escaping it: the world is full of people in love rubbing it in his face.

He’s burying his head in Maggie’s scarf deep enough to try (it’s a huge scarf, and purple and so soft, and it smells like her) but not enough to miss the young couple in front of him as he’s waiting to order. They’re not even _ doing _ anything but it’s the way they touch without thinking, how they’re standing so close. His heart practically gives up when they’re share a sweet kiss right where he can see.

He doesn’t get it. It’s not like they’d always been very prone to touch, him and Maggie. Arguably, they always kept a pointed amount of physical distance, because of Don, because of Lisa, because of Hallie. Because of themselves and their own hang-ups. Even when they’d gravitated towards each other in spite of everyone else, a thin glass wall had restrained them from going too far, with the one time they’d ignored it ending catastrophically, which had only thickened that glass, to the point of driving him into another unknowingly-doomed relationship and her into the most difficult time of her life. 

They’ve come a long way since but being physically affectionate is delicately new still, and only as frequent as their visits. So if it’s so new, why does he feel the missing shape of her hand around his like he’s been holding it for decades? Like he doesn’t know any different?

“Next.”

Maybe with time, light from the heavens will fall on him and everything will fit into place and he’ll feel like it’s always been this way. It’ll actually become so, and it won’t hurt anymore. Right now, though, the only thing he can do is get a vanilla latte, inhale that familiar scent again and pretend his palm is complete. 

***

MacKenzie’s way out has changed slightly since her office moved a few floors up but when she’s feeling particularly nostalgic, she takes the long route through the newsroom, feeling the remains of rush hour like a whiff of a favorite dish you haven’t had for a long time. By now it’s mostly empty and quiet in here, only a few people working late left. It’s when she’s passing her former office that she notices a certain somebody still inside.

“Jim?” She asks as she opens the door, knocking twice on the glass.

He turns his head quickly, startled out of his concentration. “Mac. I thought you’d gone home already.”

“I’m on my way.” She walks inside and stands in front of him, the desk separating them. “What are you still doing here? Aren’t you going home?”

Jim gestures a little nervously at the papers strewn about. “Yeah, I just wanted to finish something before—”

Interrupting him, Jim’s phone starts vibrating on the desk, Maggie’s name lighting up the screen. Jim hesitates for a second, with a scared glance at MacKenzie. He grabs the phone but instead of answering like she thought he would, he cancels the call, putting the phone away and turning around towards his computer screen. 

Mac frowns in complete confusion. “Wasn’t that—”

“Maggie, yes, it was.”

“And you didn’t answer.”

“Uh, no,” he says, still focused on the screen. He’s trying to avoid the question that’s obviously coming, but like any good mentor, she won’t give him the relief.

“Maybe I don’t understand young relationships anymore but why wouldn’t you answer your long distance girlfriend, who, I believe you’ve been moaning, you haven’t seen for six weeks?”

He’s shrinking in his seat with every passing second. “I was having a conversation with you.”

“You could just answer and say you’ll call back. Or let me talk to her. I haven’t seen her since she left.”

“I'll _call_, I’ll call back in a minute, I just need to see—“

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence as MacKenzie walks around the desk, grabs the back of his chair and spins him to look straight at his eyes. Though she doesn’t appreciate cliches, Jim’s truly are the windows to his soul, a soul that wants to avoid the conversation desperately and was prepared to lie for that. She can see him gulping as he realizes Mac knows and, for once, doesn’t try to justify further to end up with his foot in his mouth. Slowly, with enough weight in her voice, she asks, “Why didn’t you answer?”

Much as he tried, he knows when he’s fighting a losing battle. “We talked a few days ago, and it was all going fine, but then we had a fight, and it was a stupid fight in the first place but now it’s… I don’t know what to say now.”

“What did you fight about?”

“Nothing,” he says, his hands rising in defense. “It was just something stupid.”

“_What _ was it?”

Jim sighs and looks away. “I may have insinuated she was lying about work to not come to New York.” Mackenzie frowns, which only makes Jim more wordy. “I know, but it’s been six weeks and we barely see each other as is and she kept putting it off again, and shouldn’t her job be a little less overwhelming by now?”

MacKenzie winced. “Maggie took that badly, I’m assuming.”

“Of course she did, and I admit it sounded like I was saying she hasn’t learned how to do her job but I apologized!”

“And she didn’t—”

“She didn’t accept it, no,” he says. “She said she was _ so overwhelmed _ that she needed to hang up. And then she did.” 

“And now she’s calling you.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think she might want to apologize for hanging up like that?”

His head makes a so-so motion. “I think she was trying to not scream at me so it might have been for the best.” He sighs again and looks down. “She wants to discuss what happened.”

Mack holds back her own sigh. She’s a little tired of hearing this kind of thing from Jim but knows a moment for a lesson when it’s right there. “And you don’t because...?”

Glancing at his phone, he rests his cheek on his hand. “I don’t know yet.” His eyes find MacKenzie’s momentarily and there’s hurt there, more than she had thought. “I love how committed she is to her job, but I know that tone where she can’t lie convincingly so I_ know _ it’s not about work.” He takes a moment before getting to the root of it all. “She bottles things up, important things, and I can’t notice easily because she’s not here and I’m not there, and it just… I don’t know how to ask what I want to ask.”

“How long have you been avoiding her calls?”

“All day,” he admits in a low voice.

“Don’t you think that would make things worse?”

“I don’t _ want _ to make it worse,” he growls low, “that’s why I need to know what I want to say. Maggie can tear down arguments in a heartbeat and I’ll say something she’ll misinterpret so I… I need to be clear and sure.”

Mac smiles slightly, with unexpected relief. 

She’s been witness to more than one of Jim’s romantic mishaps, unfortunately. She’s seen him go along with the current apathetically and fight loudly from across a hotel room, and a lot in between. When he’d told her he was dating Maggie long distance, she’d been privately sceptical they’d last long without a major incident and survive it, much as she still roots for them, but she’s seen how head over heels he is about Maggie, and though Maggie’s harder to read now, she has a feeling she is, too. Mac’s just glad to see them taking baby steps towards something stable.

He keeps looking to the side until Mack pulls his chin center again. “Though I wish you’d both learn how to not end up in misunderstandings already, you did the right thing.”

“What?” He says, frowning, since he probably expected to be reprimanded.

She doesn’t see why. “You should talk about your negative feelings with each other. Especially long-distance. When else are you going to deal with that if not now? Years later and let those feelings destroy your relationship?” Shaking her head, she holds his shoulder in support. “You did the right thing. You _ are _ doing the right thing. I don’t need to tell you how important words are.”

He looks like it’s the first good thing he’s heard today.

“Of course, not answering your girlfriend is the _ wrong _ thing to do and you should fix it immediately. Though maybe wait until you get home, this office’s got ears,” she says more lightheartedly. “I don’t want to see you here tomorrow unless you’ve talked, understood?”

His eyes shine a little bit brighter now. “Yeah.”

“And don’t make hiding in here a habit, either.”

He smiles a little embarrassed but stronger than it’d started. “I promise.”

Her job for the day is done then. “Alright! Now, begone! Out.” She makes a shooing gesture but assures him silently it will be fine. Nothing is unsolvable. It’s something she thinks he’s slowly learning in this business.

***

Tonight they need the comfort of a movie and cuddles. His couch is really good for that: he bought it specifically because of that, even though it meant he couldn’t buy a lot of other things when he’d first moved in. With Maggie leaning on him, her soft breathing lolling him into drowsiness, and his arm around her shoulders, he knows what a good choice he made.

The light from the TV is bathing them in shades of purples and blues, with the dim golden from the side lamp as counterlight. They’re watching _ The Band Wagon _ because Maggie’d said she’d never watched it before but he’s not really noticing what’s happening, as he’s busy looking at her hair.

It feels like only yesterday Maggie was trying to run away from ever seeing her natural color, and now it’s a honey blonde, soft and hypnotising, becoming lighter as it nears the tips. 

It’s already past her shoulders, was what caught his attention. He can’t believe it’s as long as when they first met, when it moved so much thanks to her fast jerky movements it was almost another limb. He remembers seeing Maggie with a lot of different hairdos, reflective of her moods, that her shorter hair couldn’t afford later on. 

Not that he didn’t like the short cuts either but the choppy pixie hair hadn’t been for the best reason and it kind of taints those memories. He’s more fond of the bob she’d later grown because he’s a romantic sap sometimes and she‘d had it when they’d finally become a thing. 

But those long, golden locks just held a special place in his heart. Even after everything they’d gone through afterwards, all the back and forth and the hurt, he had fallen for her like that, and he’d never stopped since. He’s very fond of her hair like this.

“What is it?”

“Mm?” Jim gets brought back to the now, and Maggie’s looking at him curiously.

“You’re staring at my hair with a lot of focus.”

“I was just thinking,” he says and kisses the top of her head. 

“What about?”

“Nothing important.”

“It was pretty engrossing from the looks of it,” she counters.

He sighs fondly. He’s not embarrassed she had caught him so focused but he’s not sure how to explain and not sound a little dumb, but knowing Maggie, she won’t drop it. “Just... thinking about your hair.”

She laughs and frowns slightly. “Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” He shrugs. “I just was.”

“There’s never a _ just _ with you,” Maggie says, grabbing her hair and inspecting it, as if looking for flaws he might have noticed and didn’t want to say for fear of retaliation, which was actually likely what she was thinking. “Is it the tips? I haven’t had time to get an appointment yet to trim them after last time and they feel like straw—”

“Maggie!” He stops her fretting hands and they fall into silence. He smiles reassuringly, because it’s nothing like she’s thinking, and tucks an unruly strand behind her ear. “Your hair’s fine, I love your hair. I was just… thinking it’s as long as before. When we met.”

That seems to do the trick, as Maggie’s expression turns into surprise. “Oh. Yeah, I’ve— I’ve sort of been letting it grow again. Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The atmosphere grows a little hesistant, like they don’t quite know where to go from this point. Maggie looks at the TV again, where Tony and Gaby are dancing, and he follows her lead. They stay like that for a few minutes, the easiness from before not returning. That’s the last thing he wants so Jim breaks the ice again. “I’ve always loved your hair.”

Maggie doesn’t turn, trying to seem casually curious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even the short red?”

“Even the short red.” He kisses the top of her head again and pulls her closer if that’s possible. “I’ll admit it wasn’t my favorite… but I loved it anyway.”

Maggie doesn’t reply and they watch the rest of the movie.

She’s not typically the best at accepting this kind of sincere, he knows. She can take joking or sarcastic or anything else but blunt heartfelt sincerity. Her face gets that struck in headlights look, her eyes getting wide and her mouth opening slightly, and he knows a part of her doesn’t trust those comments, not about her.

He tightens his arm and rest his head with hers again. “Even if it’s bright green or not there at all, I’ll always love it.”

He doesn’t care if he has to see that look a hundred times so long as she gets to hear it, so someday she won’t second-guess it.

***

He sort of thought people in the office wouldn’t remember his birthday so when he gets ambushed with everyone’s “Surprise!” as soon as he walks in, he’s genuinely surprised.

“I think you guys want to distract me so you don’t have to work today,” he jokes while he accepts hugs and congratulations from everyone. Even Mac and Will, usually off on their own thing, are here, both sounding truly happy for him. He thanks all of them, but soon it’s back to their regular day: he yells for everyone to gather for the day’s rundown and they all fall into place.

Things march as usual for the rest of the morning, or at least they would if he could just keep that tiny, minuscule bit of hurt from affecting him.

He’s not mad at Maggie since she hasn’t forgot his birthday, she’d called two hours ago, but he is mad that, even after they’ve finally become a couple, he’s still spending his birthday away from her.

He’s wished to be with her since he was twenty-eight: every year, with every candle, being as selfish as he wanted for one miserable moment, he’s thought of Maggie longingly and wished she were with him. And she _ had _ been around him, as in physically next to him. Now the one birthday they’re romantically involved, she’s in DC. It seems birthday wishes work under the same rules as genies.

So while he’s grateful for his friends here, for the good life he’s made at ACN, it still leaves a heavy feeling in his chest that won’t disappear. He pretends to the best of his abilities it’s not there.

When it’s time for lunch, Neal and Tess grab hold of him and pull him to the rundown table. A lot of them are gathered around plates of food and a small cake with a few candles on it.

“Bring him faster before Gary leaves a bite-sized mark on the cake!” Don yells, and they hear Gary complaining even before they reach the door.

They take a little time out of their day to chat with each other and have some fun, and Jim never thought he’d enjoy his birthday so much.

The moment comes when the lights are off and lit candles are put in front of him, and everybody sings happy birthday. He’s never known what to do while they sing but it doesn’t feel as awkward as it always does.

“Make a wish!” Tamara yells, and he’s known what it’ll be all week. He blows out the candles and pretends he’s rubbing his eyes because of the light turning on again suddenly. The cake’s cut and they all get a piece.

“Alright, so, this is my present because Will forgot to buy it so it is absolutely only from me,” Mac says as she hands him a small box with “Tissot” imprinted on it. The watch is a perfect replacement for his lost graduation present. 

“Thanks, Mac. And Will,” he adds when Will glares at him in that way where it doesn’t seem like he’s glaring but absolutely is.

“And this is from the both of us.” She grins before she gets up to cover his eyes, which is just goofy but he goes along with it. “Don’t even peep, okay? I’ll know all about it if you do.”

“You shouldn’t test her,” he hears Will say on his right. “We couldn’t get a giant cake but I’m sure you get the idea.”

Moments go by where he hears a couple of footsteps coming closer, and he hopes it’s nothing strange like an actual stripper out of the cake.

“Open your eyes,” Mac says, lifting her hands, and he loses his breath.

Maggie’s standing by the door, looking like she’d just got off the train, her hair messy and her go-bag just behind her. “You know,” she says, clearing her voice, “I kind of hoped for a grand entrance but the train delays didn’t leave much room for that.”

He immediately springs to his feet, almost tripping in his hurry, and puts his arms around Maggie, hugging tightly, breathing her perfume in. Vanilla. It really is her.

“Glad you saved a piece for me,” she says in his ear, the sounds of people cheering in the background.

“It was symbolic.”

Her hand trails his back as she says, “Not so symbolic anymore.”

He hugs her even tighter. “I thought you couldn’t come back for another two weeks.”

“I really couldn’t.” She steps back from the hug to look at his face. “But Mac managed to persuade my EP to give me the day off as long as I go back in first thing in the morning and make up for lost time tomorrow. I can’t really stay for long.” Her smile is strained and apologetic. “But I couldn’t not be here today.” Cupping his cheeks, she closes the distance and kisses him, sweetly and heartfelt. “Happy birthday, babe.”

She kisses him again while everybody hoots and cheers jokingly but all he cares about is holding her for as long as he’s allowed. She doesn’t mind his gripping anyway, running her hand, soothing and affectionate, on his back.

“Now, while I can’t give you the afternoon, the actual part of our present is to give you the _ night _ off. Don has graciously agreed to take over for tonight and not cause major incidents, I _ hope_,” Mac remarks. “Maggie, you’re more than welcome to stay around here.”

After that, the lunch party disperses and everyone returns to their jobs. He and Maggie thank Don profusely but Don just says they owe him one, and returns to his own show, and Jim goes to his office, Maggie close behind, holding his hand. He’s almost done making a semblance of order when he notices she’s eating the cake he’d left for her on the meeting table.

“You know, I don’t remember seeing your new office before. Is that a new Star Trek poster?”

There’s a little icing on the side of her mouth.

Turns out, thirty-two shouldn’t be that bad if it starts like this.


	2. 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to add to this for ages, and I have a couple more ideas I want to finish before posting, but in the meantime, here's a few more snippets :)

“I don’t think I’ve gone dancing… ever,” Jim says as they open the door. They’ve had a good evening: Maggie’s co-workers/friends had been insisting on meeting Jim for ages and they’d agreed on getting drinks at one of the best bars in DC. When they went inside, a band was playing and they’d seen couples on the dance floor, swaying to a 50s-style ballad. 

There was something about how they’d looked, so sweet, so enchanted, that had stuck with Jim all night.

Maggie looks at him curiously. “Not even in college?”

“Not really,” he says, thinking back to his university years. He hadn’t been excluded from the popular things like in high school but he’d also been very committed to getting his degree. Going clubbing wasn’t high up in his agenda. “It wasn’t exactly like I was bursting with friends who liked, you know, moving. And we never danced like that.”

“I probably don’t need to ask about high school then,” Maggie says with a small smirk as she hangs her bag and heads to the bedroom. “I can just picture you sitting at the bleachers, thick frames and huge suit, watching all the other kids have fun.”

“I wasn’t _ that _ stereotypical,” he says as he loosens his tie.

“Tell that to your sister, then.”

Jim groans. While he’s happy Michelle and Maggie got along well, he’s also slightly sorry he ever introduced them when his sister’s more than ready to start digging up crates of old photos of Jim. “I should have never let her see me in that suit.”

“You looked cute,” she says, walking back into the living room, and finishes taking off Jim’s tie. “But I can’t say I don’t like your style better now.”

He smiles. “How about you? Were you batting away offers from every boy in school?”

Maggie’s eyebrows go up in disbelief. “I think you’re overestimating what I looked like in high school.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m sure fifteen year-old me would have been crazy over thirteen year-old you.”

“Mm,” she hums with playful uncertainty, “if you say so, though I can’t guarantee thirteen-year-old me would have liked you.”

“Ouch.”

“But,” she continues, laughing, “I’m sure, if you had asked me to dance, I would have realized how kind and smart and gentlemanly you were—”

“Were?”

“If you just heard the end of the sentence?” When he closes his mouth and waits, she continues. “I was saying I would have realized all that and I wouldn’t have let you dance with anyone else.”

As she moves away, Jim thinks it would have never happened, even if they had met in high school. He never would have had the courage to ask her in the first place. 

He’s very glad he’s not that horribly shy boy anymore. He goes up to her and asks for her hand, pulling her closer when she takes it. Now he has no trouble looking into her eyes as they sway gently to music only they can hear.

***

_ “So, when do you think you’ll stop travelling?” _

_ “Do you have a plan?” _

_ “It’s not a sustainable life.” _

“So how long are you planning to do this?”

It’s the question that keeps coming up. With different words from different people with different intentions, but _ everybody _ asks, for how long are you going to do long-distance?

He can’t blame people for being curious or wanting to draw conversation but it’s starting to get on his nerves. If he could, he’d just not answer it at all. 

It’s always a challenge coming up with a vaguer and vaguer way of saying I don’t know.

Maybe it’s a flaw in their relationship, not having a plan, prolonging the suffering indefinitely. Who knows, it may one day end up badly because of it. But, if he’s honest, he doesn’t think they’re in a position to say.

Neither one wants to give up their job to move in together yet. Natural workaholics that they are.

Maggie wouldn’t yank him away from being the executive producer of one of the biggest news broadcasts in the US. He’s so proud of everything they’ve done and he’s so happy to have had a big part in shaping that and she knows it. In the same way, he’d never dream of asking Maggie to give up her dream job after only a year just to be near him in New York.

It’s painful being apart, he’s well aware by now, and he misses her every minute of every day. But it’s not an easy decision for them. And though they haven’t gone into detail, they are aware of what the other thinks. They know where they stand. They know where they hope to get to. They just haven’t figured out the when.

“Is it worth it?” Neal asks him, one night they’re at Hang Chew’s. “All this waiting and wondering?”

Jim takes a deep breath before answering. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jim says. “I don’t care if it takes a decade to get to live together, though I hope it won’t be so long.” It’s not like he’s the first person to live apart from his loved one. And he’s sure they felt the same thing he does. There’s one thing they must have known just as he does that makes it enough to put in the effort and wait. “I love her.”

***

There were a lot of things he thought about when it came to their first anniversary.

One of them was inevitably how close it was to Charlie’s death. He would always remember getting to Cuba, literally just off the plane and waiting for their luggage, and Mac calling them, her monotone voice trying not to break, telling them they needed to get back. He would always remember that strange combination of grief and bliss for those first few days too: he’d look around the office and be hit with every memory he had of Charlie, knowing and feeling with such certainty something was missing in the room, only to then look at Maggie sitting at her desk, working on finishing her tasks before she officially left, and feel as light as air knowing that he could call her his at last. 

He also thought about its significance: obviously, anniversaries as a thing were important but for him, making it a whole year together would be proof that, despite how messy it had been, they’d persevered and hadn’t given up at the first sign of trouble. He never imagined them staying together from obligation, not after all they’d gone through, especially not since they were more likely to break up accidentally. If they made it one year together, it would be because they’d found a way to make it work, he was sure.

He’d imagined them in New York, many times. Sometimes in a fancy restaurant, an evening they’d have planned out and made time for no matter how busy they would be; sometimes in a picnic in Central Park, in a spur of the moment decision to enjoy the sunlight; sometimes in random places they’d visited doing random things.

The one thing he always considered was Maggie not leaving her bed for a long, long time, just for very different reasons.

“You have to be one unlucky woman to get a cold in Summer,” he says as he brings a mug with iced tea over to the mess of tissues her bed’s become.

Maggie’s only reply is to sneeze again, and he passes her another tissue. He kisses her cheek and sits next to her, trying to be close without overheating her, the ceiling fan the only reprieve from the awful heat.

The DC apartment is terribly ventilated. The air is stuffy and barely a breeze goes through the one window by the kitchen. It doesn’t even have a nice view.

(If he’s honest, he doesn’t like this place. It’s shoebox-sized and he knows far too much about Maggie’s neighbors by now, but the distance to the studio is convenient and there’s not much else Maggie can afford. It’s not like she spends all that long in here anyway. 

But still. Wouldn’t have killed whoever designed this building to take natural wind currents into consideration.)

As soon as she starts coughing again, Jim goes to get another sip of syrup, which Maggie hates the taste of and refuses to keep drinking.

“It’s just a cold, seriously, I’ll be fine.” 

“You’ve been breathing through your mouth the entire night and your fever’s not breaking.” He holds out the cup in front of her. “Just take the damn syrup.”

Sighing in defeat, she sits up on the bed. “You’re a mean nurse.”

“I’m the best nurse you could have.”

“You’re the _ only _ nurse I’ve got.”

“The one and only,” he says with a triumphant smirk, kissing her grumpy expression away, and goes to quickly wash the cup when Maggie passes it back. It works in bringing her fever down but she’s still feeling pretty shitty for the rest of the day.

Hearing Maggie coughing up her lungs all evening is not how he envisioned celebrating, for sure.

But despite the circumstances, he’s always happy to see her. He’s happy to be _ taking care _ of her. It’s more than he’s allowed on a regular basis. They have to be self-sufficient enough to live on their own, essentially, so anything minor, which is almost all there ever is (thankfully), they treat individually, with a passing remark the next day or week. They don’t really get to just run to the store when the other needs something or make them dinner when the other’s tired, not anything practical like that.

It’s something so tiny but it feels huge when he sees Maggie relax because he’s taken some of the load on her shoulders away by just doing some chores.

“What would you like to watch?” he says, bringing the laptop over.  
  
“Whatever you like, I’m not sure how long I’ll be conscious tonight.” Once she’s settled next to him, she starts playing with a loose string on his t-shirt, and he senses what she’s about to say. He’s been expecting it all day. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do something more romantic today.”

“You know I don’t mind,” he says, and he really means it.

Maybe today could have been the most romantic day of all time with a billion things planned to make the most of the hours before they’re separated again. But, though all he’s doing right now is staying still as she sleeps on his shoulder, the laptop’s light bathing them in soft white, he can’t think of a better way to spend his time.

He grabs her hand laying over his arm and looks back at the screen. They can leave all that for next year.


	3. 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly wanted to add more stuff before this, I feel like there are still such huge chunks to fill in, but I am out of ideas :( so for the time being at least, it's the end.

It’s very early morning, when the day’s almost started but not yet and everything is still wrapped in dark and fog. His arm is comfortably resting on the curve of her stomach and they’re comfortably warm under the duvet, deep in sweet dreams.

They hear her alarm go off.

Being the kind of journalists they are, their senses are atuned to phone alerts like a mother to a child’s cry. In much the same way, when they’re sleep deprived and so very fine staying in bed the way they are, they both groan at the sound. 

Jim’s arm tightens and he snuggles closer to Maggie. “Don’t, it’s too early.”

“I have to,” she replies with no small amount of frustration and stretches towards the night stand, moving as she prepares to get up.

As much as he tries to keep up with her, he zones out immediately, falling back into dreams, before Maggie shakes him awake again. “Jim. Jim, come on, wake up.”

He rubs his eyes and tries not to hate the DC bureau for being in DC more than he already does. “I’m up.” 

“The lack of eye contact begs to differ.”

He cracks open one eye, barely seeing her trying not to smile. “How about now?”

“ _ Wow,  _ yeah, you’re definitely not asleep.”

“Excuse me for not being entirely conscious at—“ he glances at the clock, “— _ five _ ? What,” he groans again and rubs his face roughly, hoping to wake himself up more.

“Didn’t the boy scouts teach you to rise with the sun?” Maggie says, getting up again to finish getting dressed in a short time, like the trooper she is.

Jim moans the entire way to the coffee machine, not even close to ready.

They make it to the airport by 6am, and then they wait in the cold, shivering together. The plane doesn’t board for another twenty minutes and Jim glues himself to Maggie, soaking up every second they have left together before their weekend ends and they have to get back to their usual lives.

Maggie seems to agree with the sentiment, letting her weight rest on Jim, not all that awake just now, and trying to wrap herself in his warm arms. “I hate the cold.”

“Which is why we should trade your ticket for two to the Bahamas, or maybe Cancun. Somewhere with dolphins.”

She frowns as she looks up at Jim. “Why dolphins specifically?”

“I’ve just always imagined dolphins in my paradise island holiday.” He shrugs. “Don’t shatter my dreams, Maggie.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” she says, smirking.

He smiles and closes his eyes, feeling very, very drowsy still.

“I’m sure we can find dolphins in, like, Florida or something.”

“I’m sure we’d find mutant alligators in Florida, but as tempting as it sounds, why would you take that over the Caribbean?” Jim says, frowning.

“I don’t know.” Maggie shrugs. “Right now, I’ll take anything over DC.”

He kisses her head and silently agrees. “Just don’t think about how cold it’s going to be and you'll be fine.”

Just then, a couple of passengers pass by them, apparently going on the same flight, and they overhear them saying, “It’s going to be like 20 degrees when we get there,” which only makes Maggie turn around with a sigh and snuggle into his chest. 

“I think your trip to the Caribbean is starting to make a lot of sense.”

*******

Having Maggie far away means that, sometimes, Jim forgets that she’s a little broken. Or, not completely forget (he’d be a terrible boyfriend if he forgot something as traumatizing as Uganda) but it’s easy to miss the symptoms.

He can’t see the more subtle things; he’s not physically around her often enough. And although Maggie’s a terrible liar, paradoxically, she’s also very good at keeping secrets. It’s an acquired skill (he remembers the times he could outlast her stares and get her to confess any embarrassing stories) but one she’s honed with the years, meaning that if she doesn’t want others knowing something, they won’t. Jim’s experience with those obfuscating smiles and put downs is useful, in a weird way, but it’s not always obvious to him when Maggie’s at a low point through text alone or with just an hour a day of talking on the phone. 

So, in part it’s the distance but it’s also Maggie herself.

She’s improved a lot in two years. She doesn’t have that glint in her eyes anymore, that sign she was angry and begging for a fight (really for someone to put her in her perceived place, which meant pushing Jim until he snapped, and since he made an effort not to, more often than he’d have liked) nor that dazed, out of focus stare, when she was in an entirely different place and breaking her out of it (watching her realize people noticed her pain and feeling the shame come out of her in waves) was heart-wrenching but necessary. 

Her eyes are alight now, determined and confident. Her stride is long, her nerves rock-solid, her words as intelligent as always. She still picks fights with Jim but the kind he can fight back without feeling like he’s about to step on a minefield. 

Thing is, Maggie’s someone who’s always wanted to be seen as competent and sure of herself. She’s not about to let just anyone see she still gets panic attacks from time to time. That Uganda exacerbated them and added a few more issues to the list. That she didn’t stop taking medication. That, though she must and she can, she still hates sleeping alone for a reason.

So he misses cues, more than he’d like. And Maggie bottles things up, more than she should.

But he’s noticed, more and more now, the times she has let him in. When she mentions her pills offhandedly with him or texts him when she thinks she’s about to go through a panic attack or simply when her negative feelings are too overwhelming and she needs help sorting through them.

And he calls and asks and listens. And he remembers Maggie has reached so much further than she thought she would.

He’s just happy she lets him help.

*******

“So,” he says, sitting on his bed, phone in hand, eyes on the screen. “Don and Sloan got married.”

“What?” Maggie asks, similarly laying on her bed across the internet and blinking in surprise.

“Don and Slo—”

“I heard you the first time. When, how and why weren’t we invited?”

“About a week ago, by a civil judge, and it was impromptu.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hm. They kind of dared each other.”

She nods, considering, and says, “Sounds appropriate for the two commitment-phobes,” though they both know that’s not really the truth. They may not always admit it in a straight-forward fashion but Don and Sloan have been married for a while. They’d just been afraid to put the official name on it until they weren’t.

Jim’s always slightly amazed how, in a way, they’re perfect opposites: Don and Sloan, professed relationship-phobes who committed to each other as soon as they started dating. Maggie and him, who had no trouble falling into serious relationships that they tried  _ so hard _ to commit to and failed spectacularly.

And that’s not all: “Martin proposed to his girlfriend, too.”

“What?” she laughs, growing incredulous.

Jim nods. There were many romance news this week. They could have made an entire segment on the office alone. “He came in with the biggest smile yesterday and started shouting ‘she said yes!’ as soon as someone asked why. They’re having a little engagement party this weekend.  _ And _ Jenny’s new boyfriend showed up the other day and we all met him.”

“Wow, should I be worried about the water in New York? Any other news you’d like to empart?”

“Pruitt’s going to be a dad.”

“Jesus!” she says as she looks away from the screen, now just amazed. “Are you serious?”

“Nah, I made that one up,” he says, laughing at her reaction, and Maggie glares a little but looks otherwise relieved. “Could you even imagine Pruitt being a dad?”

“Contrary to popular belief, many evil masterminds have families, so yes, I sadly can.”

“Evil masterminds like who?” Jim frowns. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know, since you’re the  _ culture expert _ and all.”

“Well, what, like… Vito Corleone? Tywin Lannister? Darth Vader?”

“I was thinking more on the lines of Dr. Evil.”

“Of course,” he laughs as he shifts around. “That’s much more applicable. You think Pruitt’s hypothetical child would inherit the evil genes? Make ACN his tower of evil? Maybe, when she grows up, Mac and Will’s kid will fight Pruitt’s kid to avenge her parent’s legacy as ethical journalists that was shattered when Evil ACN decided they were too risky to keep on the payroll.”

“That glint in your eyes tells me you’re going to end up buying her a Batgirl costume without Mac’s knowledge and prior consent.” 

He smiles and his eyes grow bright. Maggie knows him too well. “I will make that girl love comics, so help me God.”

“May he keep you from Will’s wrath.” Her image moves as she shifts in bed, now laying on her side; he does the same and pretends she is much closer than she is.

“You know,” Maggie says after a while of just looking at each other, “some people might say that, if one were to go in chronological order, it would be our turn next.”

“Some people might say Martin screwed up that order.”

“Well, if one considers Martin has been in a steady relationship longer than all of us combined, some might say he’s actually pretty late.”

Jim gives a one-sided smile. “Meaning?”

“Meaning we are still in order.”

His smiles brightens significantly but he tries to downplay how happy those words make him. “Some people might agree.”

She nods, like the matter’s settled exactly as she predicted, and smiles back before a thought crosses her mind. “Unless Neal decides to surprise us all...”

Jim laughs. “It’d be pretty sad if Neal beat us to the punch.”


End file.
